Meet the Parents: Dark Lord Edition
by iviscrit
Summary: Complete! Minerva's back for the holidays, but how is her family going to take meeting her new beau? How is Dougal McGregor going to take it? And why isn't this canon? Read and review, please :D
1. Home for the Holidays

A/N: Hey y'all! This was requested by lucky1961. Per the request, Minerva returns home unannounced around Christmas and they talk about Tom. I made it in second person. Enjoy!

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><p><em>1951<em>

You are happy to be home, you decide, even though you're still at the apparition port in Scotland and home is a fair ways away. It's crowded at the stop, and since your final destination is in a Muggle neighborhood in Caithness, you still have a cab ride ahead. If you could have your way, you'd apparate straight into your house, and give them all a pleasant surprise, but you know your mother would have spells in place to prevent intrusions like that. You miss Tom already, you discover. You're unsure how they'll take the news that's almost sure to come up.

The cab ride is long enough for you to collect your thoughts and you clasp and unclasp your purse idly as you think about home. You find it odd, calling the house in Caithness "home." London is your home now, with its smoggy streets and bustling nightlife, and the two bedroom apartment on the corner just past Diagon Alley. You feel a bit disloyal thinking of calm, quiet Caithness in that light.

"We're here, Miss," you hear the driver say, and you can't get out of the car fast enough, forgetting about the snow. You nearly forget your trunk and in your hurry you levitate it behind you, forgetting all discretion in your eagerness. You remember and turn back after taking a few steps, but the cab is gone. You push the worry from your mind and press on. The snow is deep, and even though it's only a few more yards to the front door your wool skirt is soaked through by the time you reach it, your legs red beneath it from the cold. You don't want to use magic to melt a path... not after the near miss with the driver. Snowflakes catch in your hair, lingering ice crystals forming a hairnet on the black. You flounder to the door, throwing your weight against it and dropping your trunk on the porch with a resounding thud.

"I'm home," you cry, your voice half-swallowed by the howling wind as you let the knocker fall three times. You glance around hurriedly when there is no reply at the door, and let the knocker fall again, while casting a protective bubble around yourself. The door opens at last, and after you tumble inside your spell ends, and the wind's howling fills your ears for a moment before the door thuds shut behind you.

"Minerva!" Malcolm exclaims, and in half a moment you're in a warm embrace from your little brother, now in his sixth year of Hogwarts. When did he get so much taller than you? you wonder.

"Hi, everyone," you say, and in the clamoring Scottish voices that fill the house you notice that the sound of London has stayed in your voice.

"Minerva!" your mother bursts out, embracing you. "I thought you were staying in London for your Christmas holidays-"

"I thought so too," you say, grinnign as your mother casts a warming charm on you and points her wand at the fire, and she instantly feels the room heat. "But here I am. Don't tell me you aren't thrilled to see me," you add, letting your frozen cloak fall away from your body.

"We _are_ thrilled, of course," she says, beaming, and you feel more warmed by her smile than the fire. "Your father will be overjoyed, I'm sure, he was just saying how different Christmas will be without you this year."

"Yes, where is he?" you ask, looking around and noticing his absence for the first time.

"He's out paying the McGregors a visit," she says. "Maybe you should too... Dougal has missed seeing you, you know, you haven't visited him in nearly four years now-"

You wrinkle your nose. "I think I'd better not, it'd be awkward all around. Besides, I don't think Tom would like that."

That naturally piqued the interest of everyone in the room. Typical. "Who's _Tom_?" Malcolm and Robert asked in unison, slow smiles spreading over their faces.

"Didn't I mention him at all, in my letters?" you ask feebly.

"Are you kidding, Min? You've been really distant ever since February," Malcolm said.

"Not even in my last one?" you say, feeling silly. "Surely I mentioned something in my last one."

"Minerva darling, why don't you tell us about him," your mother says, patting the seat next to her on the hearth.

"All right," you say, not knowing quite where to begin. "Um, you know about Tom Riddle. Remember, he was a year below me, and he got that award for clearing up that Chamber of Secrets fiasco..."

She frowned. "Tom Riddle? Surely not the same Tom Riddle you called the... what was it... the 'self-important twat'?"

You blush. "That was during school, Mum."

"So what's changed all of a sudden?" Malcolm said, still smirking.

"Oh, he's actually really nice," you say, wondering if now is a bad time to mention that you've practically moved into his flat. "Much more mature."

"Uh huh," Malcolm says, unconvinced. "How long have you two been shagging?"

"Malcolm!" your mother says, and this time you know you're blushing furiously.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," you say at last as Malcolm and Robert roar with laughter. "And you wish you could have someone half as often."

"She didn't deny it, mate," you hear Robert whisper, and you resist the urge to hex them both. To think, you missed that while you were away.

"All right, boys," your mother says sternly, "that's enough. Minerva," she adds, turning back to you, "how did you meet?"

"Oh, it's not like we didn't already know one another," you say. "We were set up by a mutual friend. You remember Lizzie? You know, I attended her wedding to that Greengrass fellow, and it turned out he knew Tom?"

"Oh yeah, the one boy you said _wasn't_ a sexist bastard," Malcolm observed.

"Must you remember everything _bad_ that I say?" you demand, rolling your eyes. "Sure, that's the one. Anyway, she set us up and things sort of progressed from there."

Your mother nods. "And you've been together for how long, then? When did Lizzie introduce you?"

"Oh, around a year ago," you say. "Maybe a bit over a year." You aren't too keen on celebrating the anniversary of first dates and things like that.

"Ah." You wait, feeling anxious when silence fills the room, only broken by the crackling fire.

"Shall I invited him over?" you supply tentatively to fill the silence. "If you want to meet him...?"

"I'd love to," she replies, "but it's rather short notice, don't you think?"

You don't feel like telling her that it really wouldn't be an issue for him to get there, but instead he'd be reluctant to come. "I suppose so," you say.

"Visit us any old weekend, or bring him for New Years if he can make it," she continues. "I'd like to meet him."

Your father returns shortly afterwards, and the premise of the conversation is repeated for his benefit. Once you close your lips, you feel uncomfortable by how he stares at you.

"A year?"

"A year... maybe more."

"And are you living with him?"

"Certainly not," you say. Surely a change of clothes in his closet and your most basic toilettries for those increasingly frequent stays over didn't count as that.

"I want to meet him."

"Why are you so sharp, all of a sudden?" you ask, feeling indignant. "You weren't like this when it was Dougal."

"Uh, we're going to go..." Robert says awkwardly, and slips out of the room.

"Minerva, you still don't understand that that whole business with Dougal could have been avoided if you didn't just rush into an engagement like that!" He shook his head. "I want to meet this Tom before you pull a stunt like _that_ again. I know you all can travel instantaneously, I want to see him. Now."

You flush. "Well, I'll... I'll floo. Excuse me," you say, and sidle off to your old room. It looks completely unchanged; even the jar of floo powder looks as though it hasn't been touched since your departure. The fireplace crackles to life, and you're on your knees, face in the green sulfurous flames, suuppressing the urge to cough. "Tom?"

His back is to you, and he starts suddenly at your voice. "Evening, darling. Couldn't stand to be away from me for even twenty-four hours, I see."

You start to smile. "Hey, I know this is last minute, but Dad wants to meet you."

Tom groaned. "Good God, Minerva, what did you tell them about me?"

"Nothing!" you say, petulant. "After Dougal I just have a bad track record with the parents regarding men."

"You were eighteen," he says dismissively. "You didn't know how bad your taste was."

Now you're openly grinning. "How do you know I still don't have crappy taste? And just visit, okay? Get them off my case, you know how to be... you know.."

"Suave? Charming?" he supplies, dropping to his knees in front of his fireplace. "And anyway, I'll pass. I'm not fond of meeting parents. What's in it for me?" He turns back to whatever he was doing.

"Me, for starters," you wheedle.

"No, I already have that," he says, turning back to you and smirking, "and I daresay I'll have that even if I don't bail you out. How important is this to you?"

"Very. Dad asked if we were _living_ together."

He arched a brow. "Well..." He disappears from your line of sight and returns with a nightgown and one of your brassieres. "_This _isn't mine, of that much I'm certain."

"I don't live here so that's irrelevent," you say. "Get your sorry ass in here right now, Tom Riddle."

"Where are you now, exactly?"

"My bedroom... why?"

"Happy to oblige." Within five minutes he's dusting himself off in your room. "Evening again, Minerva. You look bloody awful."

"Asshole," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Now, now, don't deny it," he says, gathering you up to his chest and pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Pity I'm in your parent's house, or I'd definitely take advantage of the location." He looks at you carefully. "You're soaked. Change before you catch pneumonia."

You raise a brow and smile flirtatiously. "I can't change, Mr. Riddle, there's a man in my room."

"As if that bothered you before."

You stick your tongue out at him, and after laying out a fresh tartan gown you turn your back to him and undress, the cold air on your wet skin electrifying. You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you glance back quickly. Naturally Tom's leaning against dresser, hands in his pockets, eyes unabashedly fixed on you. Even when he realizes he's been caught staring, he just smirks and says nothing. The cold is a good motivator, though, and you're dressed again in seconds. "Now behave yourself," you say in a warning voice as you take his arm.

"When do I not?" he says as you open the door.

"Mum, Dad," you call, "there's someone I want you to meet."

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><p><strong>AN: Hope y'all liked it! I always thought after the whole Dougal fiasco her parents would be on their guard whenever Minerva gets serious with a man again. I guess I've made this a two-parter... and I'm not sure if I took the sort of approach you wanted, lucky1961. I'm feeling like the next chapter should be humor. Stay tuned! And leave me a review, everyone! :D **


	2. I don't like him, Minerva

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's the how this story ends. Thank yous go to lucky1961, Sachita, and Aquitane. Oh, and I changed the story title to "Meet the Parents: Dark Lord Edition" because I think it fits better. :D Enjoy!

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><p>She lead Tom out into the living room. "Mum, Dad, there's someone I want you to meet."<p>

Tom smiled winningly at her parents. "Evening, sir," he said, addressing her father. "I apologize for the... abruptness of my visit."

"Sit down, Mr. Riddle," Robert McGonagall said.

"Call me Tom," he replied. He didn't receive a response, and Minerva prayed he wouldn't make a snide remark when he cast her a significant look; the corners of his mouth twitched as he suppressed a grin. "Thank you," he said at last. Minerva sat down next to him, and leaned against the cushions. Tom, at least, had the tact to not put his arm around her.

"Dad, this is Tom," she heard herself saying. "Tom, this is my father-"

"I saw that at once, thank you, Minerva," he said, inclining his head to Robert McGonagall. "You two are very alike in mannerism."

"Really? What prompts you to say that?"

"Well," Tom began, frowning thoughtfully and feigning concentration, "You are both rather authoritative, both rather stern, and neither of you seem willing to take crap from anyone." Minerva winced at his language. "Traits I very much admire, I might add." He glanced at her and smiled a bit. "I don't think any girl has ever told me to 'sod off' before."

Minerva winced again, this time openly.

Her father smiled a bit. "Why did you say something like that, Minerva?"

Before she can answer Tom speaks again. "Well, to be fair, I was rather rude. We had only started dating then, you see." Casually he picked up one of her hands from her lap, interlacing their fingers. "I haven't made a mistake like that since, I assure you. She's really reformed me." He rubbed her hand with his thumb. "Wouldn't you agree, Minerva?"

"Who would want to reform you?" she teased. "Who would dare try?" The two men continued to talk, from Tom's job and focus of magical research to Muggle politics. For the most part, she felt Tom did fairly well, but anxiously she watched for her father's reaction.

It was not what she wanted to see.

Robert McGonagall contemplated the two, a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "Minerva, I don't like him."

"Oh shit," Minerva muttered. She saw Tom snap alert and his eyes flashed scarlet. "Here we go," she said in a sing-song voice. "Three... two... one..."

"_WHAT?_"

"Isobel, what do you think?" her father continued, putting Tom completely out of the question and ignoring his outburst. "Isn't he disgustingly charming? I think he's completely full of himself and overconfident in his ability to make a good first impression on us."

Isobel smiled at Tom pityingly. "Oh, I don't know about that...he's a step or two up from Dougal-"

"Only a _step?_" Tom sputtered indignantly, not helping his case at all.

"Shhh," Minerva soothed. "Of course not, you're wonderful. But shut up, you're embarrassing me."

"Damn it, _I _know that, and _you_ know that-" Minerva rolled her eyes, as he'd missed the point- "but your _father-"_

"Shhhh," she said again. "You aren't doing yourself any good, you know."

"I don't think you should be seeing Minerva anymore, Tom," her father said loudly. "You're no different from the other men she's...courted. You're worse, actually. I've never seen this terrible a temper in anyone before. You would do well to read the Bible, or perhaps meditate on the source of all this unsightly rage."

Tom's eyes flashed scarlet again. "Are you f*cking _kidding_ me?"

Minerva facepalmed. "Oh Tom, shut up, you were doing so well..."

"You're telling me I can't see your daughter anymore," he ranted. "Your _adult_, self-sufficient, _no-longer-lives-under-your-roof_ daughter." It wasn't so much that he cared terribly about ending their relationship, though of course he had no incentive to do that. But who the hell did this _Muggle _think he was, telling him what he could and couldn't do?

Robert McGonagall didn't bat an eye. "Yes, that's about right."

Tom's eye twitched. "You're not even going to tell me _why_?"

"No, I don't think that's necessary, you display it every time you open your mouth." Minerva stealthily pocketed his wand, tucking into her dress. No one needed to risk getting hurt, not over something this stupid.

Tom didn't notice; he was completely unaccustomed to not getting his way, and was even more unaccustomed to not knowing _why_ he wasn't getting his way. In the past, two or more horcruxes ago when his soul was more stable, he would behave rather like a petulant child, and either turn sullen and moody, or raise hell for any poor soul who happened to cross him. Now he was more likely to fall into a bout of rage, something that had frightened Minerva the first time he slipped up, but now only made her sigh and wait it out like a mother tired of her bratty, tantrum-throwing toddler. Sadly, today was no exception, and Minerva remained sitting on the couch, pinching the bridge of her nose and hoping the episode would be short, and everything would blow over.

Tom made an effort to compose himself. "You know, _sir,_" he said, spitting out the honorific as if it were an insult, "I think that's something Minerva should decide for herself."

"Oh god. Leave me out of this," Minerva warned.

"Minerva, it's _about you_!"

She groaned. "Listen darling, we'll talk later-"

"No! There is no 'later'! Tell this imbe- tell your illustrious father you love me, that you won't-"

"Darling, of course I love you, but you need to calm-"

"Minerva, I love you," he continued as though he hadn't heard, "and if you have a problem with that-"

"_What_? You moron, I said-"

Tom waved away her words as if they were of no consequence while she seethed. "-and if you have a problem with that, or if your father does, there are ways to circumvent-"

"_TOM_!" Minerva barked, grabbing his shoulders, "you complete idiotic _prat_, will you shut the hell up and _listen_ to me?"

Isobel and Robert McGonagall exchanged looks. Isobel couldn't sworn she saw her husband wink at her. "Tom," Minerva began again, "I love you. You know that. After this f*cking embarrassing scene you've caused, I'm pretty sure my family and a good portion of the neighbors know that too." She paused. "And I will continue to see you, but only once I've convinced my dad that you're as wonderful as I know you are."

"Did you not _hear_ what he said-"

"Shut up, you moron, of course I did," she snapped. "And I'll convince him, trust me. But I can't estrange myself from my family, don't you understand, you close-minded twat?"

Tom wrapped his arms around her waist. "I have the utmost confidence in you, darling." It was interesting for the bystanders to note that he took all of her insults quietly.

"I know," she said, smiling. "And, not going to lie, the idea of not being able to see you-" she stopped suddenly, and narrowed her eyes at her parents -and brothers, who had returned once they heard a fight taking place- who were openly listening intently. "Are you all even going to pretend to give us some privacy?"

"Nah," Malcolm supplied helpfully.

"Hell no, keep going," Robert said. "I'm recording this for posterity."

"What?" Minerva said, and she heard Tom laugh.

"Keep going, Minerva."

"I'll deal with that later, but Malcolm, I appreciate the honesty." She turned back to Tom. "Right, Tom. The idea of not being able to see you is beyond awful. I can't even begin to imagine-"

"All right," Robert McGonagall said at last. "That's enough."

"Seriously, Dad?" she asked, genuinely hurt. "You're not going to let us finish?"

"No, I don't need to," he said. "I think Tom -vulgar language and temper aside- is a fine man, Minerva. Tom, I'm delighted to meet you."

Minerva and Tom exchanged looks. "This is the worst joke _ever_," Tom said at last. "People who pull this kind of weird-ass reverse psychology shit just piss me off." He caught himself. "Sorry, sir. Like you said... bad temper, bad language..."

Her father chuckled. "Well, with all your ranting you sufficiently proved to me that you do care about Minerva."

"I just can't believe I allowed myself to be _played_ like that," Tom said, disgusted.

"Tom," Minerva said, taking his arm, "there are more important things than your bloody pride, okay?"

"Of course," he said, drawing her close. "You, for instance. Sir, forgive my outburst earlier. Or don't, it doesn't really make a difference to me anyway. Even so, I'm glad you approve."

"At this point," Malcolm interjected, "Dad has just pulled the terrible cliche of the overprotective father as well as the 'test the daughter's boyfriend through reverse psychology to see if he really does love her' in one go. It's almost as if we're pawns, manipulated by a bored teenager tuning out her calculus teacher."

"Yes," Tom agreed. "If so, she's certainly using what is among the most overdone of plot devices."

"Indeed," said Robert McGonagall. "I feel rather foolish now."

They all nodded sagely for a moment.

"I'll get dinner," said Isobel.

"I'll help," said Minerva.

"I'll be in London," Tom said. "Lovely meeting everyone... I think..."

"Tom, you're staying for dinner," Minerva said.

"Okay," Tom shrugged.

"Welcome, Tom," Robert McGonagall said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I look forward to getting to know you. You know," he added in an undertone, "I was rather concerned at first that you were one of those typical wizard snobs, convinced you could charm anyone with a maddeningly perfect manner. But when you exploded about not seeing Minerva, well, that was ample proof for me that you love her."

"Uh, sure," Tom said. "Of course. You two are much alike.."

"Looking forward to getting to know you," he repeated. "Ha! I'll tell you something else, too. From what little she mentioned of you in her letters -you know, Slytherin, a Parselmouth, a fascination with dark objects- I was afraid she may have entered a relationship with an aspiring Dark wizard!"

"Or lord," Tom added, not really joking. "You certainly know a lot about our world."

"Or lord," her father agreed. "Well, I look forward to our 'dinner with a dark lord,' if you will."

"As do I," Tom said. _Hmmm. Dinner with a Dark Lord? Has a nice ring to it._

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><p><strong>AN: Heeey, guys. Stay tuned for the sequel, 'cuz this fic is done. As you can see teh crackfic took over. Damn plot bunnies XD Review please! **


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